


Solitude

by Ichangedmyusername



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Graphic Description, Graphic Suicide Attempt, Implied Zelink, Link (Legend of Zelda) Needs a Hug, Mental Health Issues, Psychological Trauma, Solitude, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Zelda (Legend of Zelda) Needs A Hug, advanced medical procedures for their time?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:46:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27947015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ichangedmyusername/pseuds/Ichangedmyusername
Summary: “It’s a faceless shadow of despair. Its claws pierce your chest, anchor themselves between your ribs and hold your soul hostage. It grips your lungs, tormenting you with just enough air to survive, but not enough to live. Each thought you have is swallowed in darkness, hazed in clouds of isolation, buried deeply underneath utter solitude. It whispers to you, tempting you with delusions of peace and deliverance if you just let go—if you just give up.”
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 55





	1. Alone

421 days.

It had been 421 days since he had awoken, entombed inside the chilled stone walls of the Shrine of Resurrection. He’d shivered as the lukewarm waters receded, not for the temperature adjustment, but for the immediate realization that he could recall absolutely nothing. He knew nothing of himself, where he was or anything else...except that he was completely and utterly alone.

A voice had spoken to him, it’s tones soft and alluring, carrying a promise of revelation and so he followed it blindly. After all, what else was he to do?

As it turns out, he was in for much more than he would have ever thought possible. 

It had been 218 days since he had recounted the final memory that the Princess had left for him on the strange slate. 218 days since he had watched himself forsake his duty and kingdom, heard the anguished and strangled screams of the Princess as he crumbled in her arms, her pleas for salvation once again falling on deaf ears as they were drowned out by torrential precipitation and earth shattering roars from an otherworldly phantom: Calamity Ganon, the vile demon king they had failed to defeat. 

His failure that day had in turn helped the Princess finally harness her powers and she marched to the castle in her own solitude with the mere hope that one day, just maybe, he might return and rescue her. In the meantime, she stay there, sealed in a prison of her own making with Ganon, completely and utterly alone. 

It had been 145 days since he had bought his home in Hateno. He’d needed a home base, some place where he could store his possessions he’d acquired and recuperate after particularly tough battles. The villagers had taken kindly to him as he tried to help out around town as best he could. He appreciated the small housewarming gifts they’d left him and the way they’d tended to his flowers when he was away. However every time he returned home, dust had settled on his furniture and his bed grew cold and he was once again, completely and utterly alone. 

He had seen all of the memories and watched them all nearly every day, but they didn’t feel like _his_ memories. He knew them all by heart now. He’d memorized every move, every word, every look...but he couldn’t feel them. He couldn’t feel the Princess’ hatred for him. He couldn’t feel the curiosity that he’d so obviously displayed when she’d spoken so fondly of her favorite flowers. He couldn’t feel the awestruck admiration that lingered in her eyes after he’d just barely saved her life from the Yiga attack in the desert. He felt nothing but his current frustrations at not being able to claim those memories as his own. 

It had been 6 days since he’d stormed the castle. 6 days since he’d slain the Dark Beast in Hyrule field for everyone to see. 6 days since her ethereal form had coalesced into a _real, living and breathing_ Hylian woman in front of him and a mere 6 days since he’d seen her entire existence shatter behind glistening eyes as he told her that he knew nothing more than what she left for him. Her gaze had fallen to the scorched grass, rendering him suddenly cold and hollow.

Her voice wavered with disappointment as she thanked him for his selflessness, for rescuing her and returning peace and safety to Hyrule. She managed to force a small smile at the end. Mere moments later, she had collapsed as her adrenaline dissipated and quickly succumbed to the overwhelming exhaustion. He’d scooped her up and taken her back to back to his home in Hateno, his vigilance remaining steadfast even after having fulfilled his destiny. As he laid her slumbering form in his bed and went to make himself a cup of tea, the smallest glimmer of ease washed over him. 

For the first time in the 421 days that he could remember, he wasn’t completely and utterly alone.


	2. Amiss

Three weeks had passed since Link had brought the Princess to his home. She had slept much of the first week, sometimes so soundly that he wasn’t sure if she was still alive and other times so fitfully that she woke with a jolt, screaming for him. He’d always been by her side, quick to still her trembling hands and quell her erratic, gasping breaths. He cooked her meals (which he had to force her to eat, at first) and helped her start to regain her strength, taking her on short strolls around his pond, then across the bridge to the shrine and then eventually to the general store. With each passing day, she became more and more of the energetic girl from the memories he’d watched so many times. It just so happened that the more strength she gained, the less she needed his help and the more he was left to himself. 

Something about himself wasn’t right.

The day that he had escorted her to reunite with Purah, she had been positively elated. She’d laughed hysterically at her age old friend trapped in the body of a twelve year old girl and let her quickly sweep her into hours of conversation recounting the past one hundred years and recent Sheikah technological revelations. As he stood there, he couldn’t help but take in the Princess’ beauty. Especially now that she was recuperating from their battle and her century long stasis, she had a certain vigor to her that he hadn’t ever seen before. When she smiled, it illuminated her eyes and pulled at his heart. When she laughed, the sound danced around the room with musical glee. She seemed happy, and as far as he could remember, he had never seen her happy.

At some point, he wasn’t sure when, he’d excused himself to step outside. The two girls had waved him off without much more than a hum of acknowledgment, delving further into the possibility of a new rune for the Sheikah Slate. The moment the door closed behind him, he gasped for air that he didn’t realize he needed. It burned his lungs, the muscles stretching uncomfortably and with an aching unfamiliarity. 

He searched inside himself as he calmed his breathing, trying desperately to find the source of his unease. He found nothing.

The only thing he could identify was a certain feeling of heaviness, like a weight had been tied to his breastbone. 

_Why was it so hard to breathe?_

Minutes turned to hours as he stared absently at the faint blue glow of the shrine in the distance. The sky around him began to fade into watercolor hues of purple and orange and it wasn’t until gentle fingers graced his cheek that he broke from his trance, glazed ocean eyes meeting her own. 

“Is everything alright?” She asked, her tone laced with concern as she tilted his face to be level with hers. It was the most brief moment of hesitation, but it was there. His lips parted with the slightest gasp and the furrow in his brow ticked ever so slightly upward. She doubted that anyone else would have noticed, but she’d had his face etched into her memory for the past century and so she saw every line and movement that was out of place. As quick as it had happened, though, it disappeared. She watched as his stoic mask easily slipped back over his face, his eyes refocusing into sharp, emotionless determination. He gave her a quick nod and held out his hand to begin their descent back to his home. 

They walked back in silence. While she was certain he would never tell her, she would pay closer mind to him, for the twist in the pit of her stomach told her that something was amiss with her devoted knight. 


	3. Awry

_“I’ve been keeping watch over you all this time.”_

She had watched him, as much as she could, from the moment he woke up. She had seen the confusion etched into his features and the fear behind his eyes when he found himself alone. She had watched as he met the spirit of her deceased father and learned of his past, of their shared failure and of her dire need for a savior. She’d seen the cracks in that stoic mask as he recalled memory after memory, grief turning into rage and self deprecation. After he had learned of his lost relationship with Mipha, he’d retreated into himself for quite some time. They had been best friends for his entire life and learning that she had hoped to one day be wed to him left him reeling. She had really noticed a change in him then, one that he never quite released himself from. 

_”I’ve witnessed your struggles to return to us as well as your trials in battle.”_

Things had seemingly gotten better after he had freed the Divine Beasts. He’d been graced with short conversations and a chance to bid farewell to the Champion’s spirits as they gave him their blessings. That seemed to have encouraged him and spurred him into his last battle, the one which won her freedom. He’d seemed alright when they first reunited, calm and caring and attentive to every need she had. He’d graced her with small smiles and even some bad puns, to which she could merely roll her eyes and giggle alongside. However, it seemed that there were things that she had missed.

_”I always thought- no- I always believed...that you would find a way...”_

She hadn’t seen the way his eyes would glaze when she rambled on and on about minuscule things. She hadn’t discovered the way his chest would tighten and his breaths became shallow if he was left to his own devices for too long. She hadn’t noticed the signs of restless sleep like the slight darkening circles underneath his eyes or the way his fists clenched the bedsheets as if they were his last threads of life.

Until now.

Now, she noticed everything. 

Since she found him outside of Purah’s tech lab last week, completely absent from reality, she’d kept a close eye on him. To any other villager, he would have seemed normal, but to her, something was very different about him. He seemed present on the surface, engaging in small conversation and tending to their needs, going about their daily life as if everything was perfect. Yet, she could see an absence lingering in the darkest corners of his irises. Storm clouds brewed behind the disheveled bangs that splayed across his forehead and she felt the tension in the way his shoulders were set just a half inch higher than usual. Any time she asked of his well being, it was dismissed with “I’m alright, Princess” and a forced smile, but the smile never reached his eyes. They always remained an icy blue, cold and vacant. He’d then steel himself with his usual barriers and that would be that. It hurt that she couldn’t reach him, that he wouldn’t allow himself the mercy of divulging to her what was going on behind the stony facade.

A soft sigh brought her out of her thoughts and her eyes shifted over to the cot that had been set up next to the bed. It was rare that she would stay up later than him, but this particular evening, her concerns for her knight had plagued her to the point of insomnia. Link’s brow was drawn together tightly, half of his face illuminated by the soft moonlight that swept through the room and the other half buried in the down feather pillow beneath him. His fists clenched around his blanket and he shifted restlessly.

Neither of them were alone, but they had never been so far from each other.

_-_

_He stood in Hyrule Field, a sturdy grip claiming the Master Sword. He held an audience of the King and the four champions. Legions of soldiers from every race stood behind them, organized in rows and armed with their rightful weapons. Zelda stood in front of them all, one hand clasped over her heart and the other hand intertwined with another woman beside her._

_The Goddess herself, Hylia._

_Both of them shone a brilliant gold, the luminescence reaching to the furthest corners of Hyrule. It was then that he realized that he was surround on all sides by the citizens of Hyrule as well and every single eye of every living soul was locked onto him. They all stood unnaturally still, waiting. Hoping. Praying._

_His heart hammered in his chest as he looked between them all. Thunder roared above them and he looked to the skies, clouds of black smoke swirling above his head in sinister patterns. His fingers tightened around the hilt of the sword and he readied his stance, swallowing hard as pillars of the smoke billowed down from the sky, surrounding him from every side. Tendrils spiraled out from each pillar and began to slowly creep toward him, carrying wordless whispers on the back of the wind._

_A pulse against his hand brought his attention down to the sword. It was glowing blue, suffused with with its sacred power and he felt a small surge of courage as he readied to fight this new enemy. His eyes twitched up, vigilant and ready, but what_ _he saw tore through his courage._

_One by one, each citizen, soldier and champion had begun to turn their back to him, abandoning their hopes and prayers - abandoning him. With each one that turned away, a new tendril of smoke emerged from its host until they writhed liked dark vines around his feet. They swam higher and higher, curling around his shins, around his thighs, around his waist. He was frozen in the midst of them all, paralyzed as they slowly overtook him. His eyes locked with Zelda’s, pleading for her help. It wasn’t until the smoke had reached his chest that he called for her, but no sound left his mouth. He felt the Master Sword crumble to pieces in his grip until he was left with nothing but trembling fingers. His last hopes were destroyed when both she and Hylia bowed their heads and began to turn away from him as well. Their Divine light retreated towards them, chased quickly by a looming, terrifying shadow. The shadow had no form, but he felt it boring down on him as though it was staring directly into his soul. The very last thing he saw were Zelda’s emerald eyes, glistening with sorrowful, pitying tears as he was completely consumed by darkness._

_-_

A gasp tore from his throat as his eyes flew open, frantic and searching. Zelda was already there, taking his arms and bringing him closer to her, holding him tightly against her. His chest heaved against her own as he pawed at her, desperate hands searching for purchase against her back. His voice was hoarse and weak as he called her name in a dry sob. It was the first time he’d ever used her real name. 

“Link, look at me.” She took his face in her hands and pressed her forehead against his own, forcing his wild eyes to hers. He shook like terrified prey, panicked and skittish. “I’m here.”

She started a slow rhythm of inhales and exhales, nodding against him to encourage him to join her. He did as she requested, frightened eyes locked with her own as he attempted to match her pace. She placed one of his hands over her heart and sealed her hand over top so he could feel the continuous rise and fall of her chest. His own breaths were shaky, though fuller, and his feral gaze began to calm. He held onto the promise of safety in her eyes, steady breaths forcing back the overwhelming dread that strangled him. They stayed sealed together, breathing as one, until she was sure he was lucid. Without another word, she took his hands and guided him over to the full bed. He followed without hesitation, sliding into her arms as they both lay down. Legs and arms tangled together as she wrapped herself around him and pulled his head to her chest, tucking him securely underneath her chin. He clung to her, fistfuls of her night shirt woven tightly between his fingers as she trailed her own through his hair. A tremor rippled through his body and she tightened her hold on him.

She knew that they would wake up the next morning and he would retreat and don his mask, but for now, she would do all that he would allow to ease his burdens.

_Please, don’t turn away._


	4. Attachment

Zelda had been correct. The following morning, she woke alone. His cot had been made and breakfast had been prepared for her. She ate lazily, remembering the raspy tones of his voice—the desperation it held as he called for her by name. She’d ached for over a century to hear her name slip past his lips and to hear it for the first time with such anguish behind it stung. The feel of his hands clawing at her body and chest flush with her own was something she had fantasies of so long ago, though those fantasies had a much different inflection than what had transpired last night.

After finishing her meal, she stood and stretched her arms above her head for a moment, relishing in the way the tension drained from her limbs. She sighed with relief and let her arms swing back to her sides, deciding to discover where her knight had disappeared to. It didn’t take long for her to find him. Sun rays warmed her cheeks as she stepped outside and the sounds of Epona’s nickers tickled her ears. She heard the soft scraping of her brush against her coat before she saw them and as she rounded the corner of the house, the mare nudged his cheek gently with her nose. Link chuckled lightly at her as he returned the affection, though the smile faded as he heard bare footsteps padding through the grass towards him.

“Good morning.” She tried to keep her voice light. He looked up to meet her gaze and his jaw set ever so slightly. “Thank you for breakfast, it was quite lovely. “

He nodded politely towards her, his hands resuming their motions of brushing through his horse’s mane without another word. She was reticent to push him further, but was desperate to know what was truly happening inside him. The air between them thickened and her heart stuttered and suddenly she was compelled to fill the silence. 

“Link,” Her feet moved of their own accord, bringing her two paces closer to him. He did not respond. Her hand carefully gripped his forearm, stilling his ministrations. She felt the muscles tense beneath the pads of her fingers and he stared at the point of contact. “About last night...”

Sapphire irises snapped to her own and for a moment, she saw them flood with the same panic she’d seen just hours ago. A flash of the nights events flickered between them before he blinked, steeling his gaze, and forced another smile towards her. Once again, it did not reach his eyes.

”I apologize, Princess. It won’t happen again.” He turned away from her, dropping the brush back into his supply box and leading Epona back towards the pond. The mare dipped her head gracefully and lapped at the water, her tail whipping behind her in satisfaction. Disappointment flared in the back of Zelda’s chest at hearing her title once more and feeling him begin to flee back into his guarded facade. She knew that it would happen, but she wanted him to be honest with her. 

“No, that’s...that’s not what I meant.” She followed after him, taking care to leave enough distance so that he didn’t feel boxed in. “Link, we both know that I’m not a Princess anymore. You have no obligation to me any longer.”

He tensed at her words. He was silent for a moment before a weaker version of his voice returned to her, words carefully chosen. “Do you wish for me to leave?”

“N-no!” Her eyes widened and she bubbled over with protests, risking another few steps towards him. “O-of course not! I...I only mean to say that you do not need to refer to me as ‘Princess’ any longer. I’m no longer your sovereign as there’s no more royal decorum or protocol. We’re equals. As a matter of fact, I’ve considered you a dear friend for quite some time and I would like for you to call me by my name.”

He eyed her warily, but seemed to take her words to heart with a hesitant nod. His answer was short, but genuine. “Okay.” 

She felt the smallest sense of victory at his submission to her request, but it was quickly overshadowed by her following request. 

“I care about you, Link, and...I’m worried.” His gaze fell to the grass and he swallowed against the ache that suddenly plagued his chest and throat. She took another step to meet him, delicate fingers cradling his cheeks as she tried to find his eyes. He closed them with sharp exhale, tension creeping from his shoulders up the back of his neck. “You can talk to me.” 

His jaw clenched against her hands and his eyebrows knitted themselves closely on his forehead. He heaved a trembling sigh and suddenly glistening pools stared back at her, drowning out the sapphire that she cherished so much. A singular tear breached the dam, escaping his cracked mask to slide between her fingertips. Her heart seized painfully in her chest.

She had never seen him cry.

”I’m sorry, Zelda.” His voice, timid and hoarse, broke as he said her name. He placed his hand overtop hers, holding it tightly to his skin. “I can’t.”

A moment later, she stood alone by the pond, watching the silhouette of her hero grow smaller as he walked away. 


	5. Admission

He felt the ache all the way down to his bones as he pulled open the door to his home. His heavy, shuffling footsteps thudded around the room as he sloughed off his cloak and gear. Knowing that she would stay in town without him by her side, he’d been gone all day. He ran for as long as he could, hoping to drown out the sweet voice echoing between his ears. For a while, it worked, and the only thing he could hear was his own heavy breathing alternating with the blood pounding through his body. However, when he tired and his pace slowed to a walk, her gentle tones returned to him, haunting him with care and kindness that he did not deserve.

_”I care about you, Link.”_

_”You can talk to me.”_

He couldn’t, though. Words were never his weapon of choice and he could barely make admissions to himself of the pain that raged deep within him. It grew fiercer every day and for the first time in his new life, he was afraid. He could fight any foe, best any beast, but he was beginning to question whether he held the strength—the courage—to fight this evil that was rooting itself inside his soul.

It was well after dark by the time he’d returned home. A plate of food and glass of water sat waiting for him on his dining table, no doubt cold by now, and he felt a pang of guilt in his stomach for leaving her alone as long as he had. She must have worried for him. He ate hastily, savoring the spiced meat and rice despite its unappetizing temperature and chugged the water. Abandoning the dishes on the table, he stood and kicked off his boots before trudging up the stairs to the loft, wrestling the sweat soiled tunic off of his body on the way. He found her tucked under the covers of his bed, her body curled on its side and her brow knitted together in a slight furrow as she slept. He wondered absently if he was the cause of that furrow.

Before he could do otherwise, his weight sank into the side of the mattress as he sat on the edge of the bed. A stray lock of her silken hair lay sprawled across her cheek and he brushed it away with gentle fingers, tucking it carefully behind her ear. She stirred at the contact, but only burrowed further into her pillow as she surrendered to sleep with a soft sigh. He felt a pull on his heart as the furrow of her brow eased and she completely relaxed under his simple touch. He didn’t understand the nature of their relationship. Their past was complicated and weighted and they almost didn’t know what to do with their newfound freedom with each other, but he knew that he cared deeply for her. To see her so calm and vulnerable in his presence gave him a swell of warmth, but it was quickly smothered by his internal war.

With a sigh, he stood and made his way to his dresser, changing into a pair of thick sleeping pants and pulling his own hair free from its tie. It was only when he made his way to his cot that he noticed a small book that lay atop his pillow. It was a journal, bound with a rich dark leather, and a pencil was tucked inside the wrap that kept it sealed. A small note lay next to it, a short message in Zelda’s elegant script.

_Link,_

_I know that something plagues you. It is doubtful that others could tell, but you are my dearest friend. I can see it in your eyes and I worry for you. I understand that you prefer not to vocalize your struggle and I will respect that. However, I will tell you this: if there ever comes a time where you would like to let me in, know that I will always be here for you. You need only ask. Until such time, I thought this journal might come of use. Back so long ago, it helped me to write when I was too pained to speak. Maybe this could be an outlet for you as well?_

_Always,_

_Zelda_

A storm of emotion seized his chest as he gripped the journal in nervous fists. It was a thoughtful gift, one that he was thankful for, and a minor relief to know that she wouldn’t press him further. He was ashamed that she knew something was amiss with him in the first place. It was his duty to protect and care for her and he could not fulfill that duty if his inner demons prevailed. He felt a nagging anxiety that by writing things down and admitting that he wasn’t okay, it would break him further. At the same time, the smallest sliver of hope glimmered at the thought that if he began to lay name to his turmoil, he could learn how to calm it and maybe get better. Most of all he felt fear that there wasn’t enough of that hope...that there wouldn’t be enough time before he was overtaken...that he wouldn’t survive the monster inside himself.

He swallowed hard and made his decision, sitting cross legged on his cot and flipping the book open to the first blank page. His hand hovered above it as he struggled to relinquish his internal guards. Eventually, pencil met paper and he scribbled his first admission.

_”What do you do when the only thing you fear- the only thing you can’t fight- is yourself?”_


	6. Attentive

_I’m exhausted. Constantly. I wake up more fatigued than the day before. It is all I can do to get myself out of bed in the morning and be productive throughout the day, but I have to be strong for her. I need to care for her and protect her. Although...it seems like she needs less and less of that each day. It seems as though she doesn’t need my help anymore._

It had been a few weeks since he had found the small journal on his pillowcase. Zelda was correct in the the sense that it helped him form the words to describe what he would never be able to say. He scribbled in the book each night before bed, his chicken scratch handwriting sprawling over the pages.

_She surprised me this morning. She made sure to wake before me and prepared breakfast for us. She was so kind, engaging me in casual conversation and gently assessing my well being. I feel guilty for shutting her out in such a manner. I know it pains her, but I am grateful that she has given me this space. Just being in her presence seems to be the only reprieve I find from my pain, though said reprieve is short lived. I thanked her for breakfast and escorted her to Purah’s lab. She has been there for the last several hours and I sit here alone in the house, trying not to let myself be swallowed whole by my thoughts. I wish I could tell her._

It began to feel less awkward over time and easier to admit his deepest secrets and fears to the parchment that he knew nobody would ever read. His admissions were short, but weighted, and with each entry he wrote, he felt some of his soul slip from his chest into the pages. He often described the storm—or was it a shadow? A monster?— that loomed over him from his nightmares. Other times, he questioned his purpose—his entire existence. Why was he still here? 

_Today she went to the lab by herself. She has become so much stronger since we defeated the calamity and more beautiful each day. I admire her, yet I also envy her. The more strength she gains, the more mine wains, it seems. My chest feels so heavy each day and sometimes I struggle to even take a full breath. Her blossoming independence solidifies my lack of necessity. What is to become of me when Hylia, nor her Princess, have need for the Hero any longer?_

Today was a different day. Something in him felt like it had shifted. His teeth caught his lower lip as he sat on his cot and laid his pencil down beside the open journal, his eyes scanning over today’s entry. 

_It’s a faceless shadow of despair. Its claws pierce your chest, anchor themselves between your ribs and hold your soul hostage. It grips your lungs, tormenting you with just enough air to survive, but not enough to live. Each thought you have is swallowed in darkness, hazed in clouds of isolation, buried deeply underneath utter solitude. It whispers to you, tempting you with delusions of peace and deliverance if you just let go—if you just give up._

The thought terrified him, but was also somewhat enticing. Could he do that? Could he just let go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, but more insight. I hope everyone had a good holiday season ❤️


	7. Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR TW: suicidal thoughts/attempted suicide. If this is something that you struggle with or something that could trigger you in any way, please DO NOT READ. If you are having suicidal thoughts yourself, passive or active, please reach out to me in some way. Or anyone, but I am here. You are not alone. Sometimes talking to a stranger is easier than telling someone close to you, so if you need to talk, I am here. You can also call or text the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-8255
> 
> You are not alone.

His lungs burned as the chilly night air flooded his body. The dim blue glow of the Hateno tower popped against its starry backdrop and his eyes nearly glazed over as he stared at it, unblinking. Small shards of bark pressed into his back as he lay propped against the large tree next to his pond.

It had been a week since his last journal entry. Ever since that night, his mind was flooded with the temptation to let go. He’d been scared of it at first, but more and more he was consumed by it. He was enticed by the idea that he could turn it all off, turn it all to nothing. The thoughts swarmed his mind incessantly, taking the form of thick, shadowy clouds that snuffed out any light he might seek. He could end his pain, his aches, his numbness. He could remove himself from the equation and step out of Zelda’s way. She would finally be free to do everything her heart desired and he would no longer be her burden. She would be better off without him and he could finally let go.

She would be better off. He so _desperately_ wanted to let go.

And so he made his preparations.

_“Thank you, Linky! These ancient cores are essential to our guardian research and are going to seriously help us improve slate function. And for free! Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Purah teased, poking Link’s cheek from the top of the table that she stood on. He gave her a soft smile and nodded, feeling a touch of gladness that she was so grateful to have his store of ancient parts._

_”I am. I just thought that they would be of better use in your hands.” Zelda met his eyes with surprise lacing her gaze, but seemed excited about the additional supplies as well. With that, Link excused himself to run the rest of his errand. He’d gifted a wooden sword, carved by himself, to Nebb. The young boy was ecstatic and immediately ran to show his sister the gift. He helped Sayge repair a leak in one of his vats at the dye shop, supplied Bolson with enough bundles of wood and iron sledgehammers to build an entire new town and ran a delivery of groceries from the general store to one of the town’s more elderly widows. It was late into the afternoon when he returned home and began to clean his house. He swept the floors, dusted the shelves and weapon mounts, washed all of the dishes and hung the laundry to dry in the back of the house. Zelda had retuned from the lab just as he set out the last dish on the table for dinner. He’d prepared quite a large meal for them, including some of their favorite delicacies like Goron spiced curried chicken and rice, a creamy Endura carrot soup and even a fruitcake, prepared specifically with her favorite fruits._

_”Wow...” She breathed as she took her seat at the table. Her eyes scanned along the pristine condition of the cottage, across the banquet laid before her, then up to meet the man who sat across from her. His eyes weren’t as vacant as they had been for so long recently, a sense of resolve swimming in them. “What’s the occasion?”_

_His lips twitched ever so lightly upwards and he held out a basket of honey glazed rolls for her to take one. “I just thought you might like it.”_

_”It’s quite lovely. Thank you, Link.” She took a bite of her roll, savoring the warmth and sweetness that coated her tongue. Despite the surprise, she quickly tucked into the feast, muttering about how starving she had been at the lab all day. They ate and conversed with an air of lightness that she hadn’t been accustomed to recently and she delighted in the fact that he seemed to be in better spirits this evening. Maybe her gifted journal was helping after all._

_After dinner, they went about their usual routine. They both cleaned and put away the evening’s dishes, bathed themselves and retired to bed, scribbling in their respective journals. It wasn’t long before Zelda had fallen asleep, pencil still in hand and her journal splayed open across her lap._

_Link took a long look at her, burning the sight of her peaceful sleeping form into his memory. This is how he wanted to remember her, seeing her peaceful and relaxed. He flipped to a fresh page in his journal and began writing a letter to her._

He wasn’t sure how long he had stared at the tower, but his eyes burned and ached with dryness. A couple of quick blinks refocused his vision and he swallowed, his throat just as dry as his eyes. The sun had long since set and Zelda had slept soundly as he wrote her letter. She didn’t stir when he made up his cot, donned a fresh set of clothes or even when he risked a gentle kiss to her forehead.

A gentle nicker from his side caught his attention and he looked over to find Epona peering at him from her stall. He stood and made his way over to her. She shifted back and forth with a nervous whip of her tail, like she knew something was amiss.

”It’s okay, girl.” He whispered to her, trailing his fingers through her long mane. She gave a soft snort before nudging his cheek with her nose. “Be good to her, okay?” 

He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, much like he did with Zelda, and turned to walk away. He ignored her low, somber whinny as he flipped up his hood and began his run towards the tower.

The air was bitter cold when he reached the top of the tower just over an hour later. Thick puffs of his breath hung in in the air in front of him as he sat against the terminal and caught his breath, unsheathing the Master Sword from his back and laying it across his lap. It pulsed a faint blue and he heard its hum in the deep recesses of his mind. He disregarded it and looked out towards his home. The moon had begun to set and it would not be long before Hyrule would be submerged in total darkness. He felt that it almost mocked him, mirroring his situation in a way. He waited a few more moments for his breath to return to normal and then pulled two items out of his pouch: a sedative elixir and a hunting knife. 

He set the knife to the side and rolled the bottle of elixir between his fingers. He wanted to go quickly and quietly, which is why he came to the top of the tower. Nobody would find him up here. If anyone ever did make it up here, his remains would hopefully be long gone by then. Anxiety bubbled in his stomach, but he wasn’t afraid. He needed this. He had made his decision and as he watched the last sliver of the moon disappear behind the horizon, he breathed in a shaky inhale.

_It was time._

The cork of the bottle rolled across the tower platform as he popped it off and brought the glass to his lips. The elixir was bitter on his tongue, but he swallowed it down in one gulp with little more than a grimace. His eyes then fell to the knife that lay idly next to his knee and he reached for it with trembling fingers. It felt far heavier than he remembered and the blade was smooth as he dragged a finger across the blunt edge. He paused for a moment, swallowing the protest from his insides before he turned his wrist to the sky and shivered, his flesh yielding readily to the cold steel. Pools of crimson chased the tip of the blade as it traced along the contours of his vein, branching off into languid rivers as they fled down his arm. He gasped involuntarily, chest heaving as he began to hyperventilate, his body plunging into shock. Bells rang loudly in his ears and the Master Sword flared in a bright light that rivaled Zelda’s, forcing him to squint his eyes against its protest. He felt its panic, desperate and wild. He quickly switched the blade to his left hand and grunted, resisting the urge to upheave the contests of his stomach as he opened the vein of his other wrist. He distantly heard a clink as the knife slipped from his grip and rattled against the floor beneath him. His eyes had gone wide, pupils blown and heart racing while blood poured from his shaking hands over his lap. Gasps of oxygen mixed with terrified cries and he squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of tears that spilled out of him faster than his own life. Cold stone hit the back of his head as he slumped against the terminal behind him.

He forced his breathing to slow— in and out. In and out. In and out. 

When he reopened his eyes, his vision began to blur, but he saw before him eighteen figures. Some were grown men. Some were children. All of them wore green tunics and caps and all of them carried his sacred sword on their backs. Dark grey shadows hovered in eyes where blue irises should have been, but he found a sense of welcoming in them nonetheless. One by one, the reached a hand out to him, as if to claim him as one of their own. He wanted to go with them. He felt his hands shaking in his lap, his entire body nearly vibrating as it hesitated on the precipice of death. His mouth felt like the desert sand, tongue and throat parched as he whispered,

“I’m sorry.”

The Master Sword flared once again in a frantic plea and he closed his eyes against the bright intrusion into his darkness. A moment later, it faded and when he opened his eyes once more, his past lives were gone. In their place, luminescent blue strings began to coalesce into solid form. His vision began to darken and he let his eyes flutter closed for the last time. The only thing he heard was a light gasp and the lethargic beat of his heart whispering in his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry.


	8. Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the time in between updates. I’m in the process of moving halfway across the country and I’ve been so busy I cant even think straight. 
> 
> Anywho.
> 
> Here she is, short and not so sweet.

Zelda woke with a start, her eyes opening wide as she adjusted to the darkness around her. She lifted the covers away from her legs, a slight shiver racing up her spine and goosebumps prickling as the chilly evening air washed across her skin. The moonlight spilled over the bed and onto the empty cot next to her. Where was Link? She frowned, her eyes scanning over how crisply it was made, the pillows pulled taught and the corners of the comforter tucked in with almost militant precision. Sitting atop lay a piece of parchment folded perfectly and as she squinted, she could just barely make out her name written in Link’s handwriting. Laying next to it, his Champion’s tunic was neatly folded. Her stomach tightened.

Something was wrong.

“Link?” She called, on the off chance that he was still around. His name echoed in the empty house, bouncing back to her in a haunting chorus. She leapt from her mattress, snatching the letter from the cot and moving over to the window to illuminate the message.

_Zelda,_

_Something as simple as ‘thank you’ is not eloquent or poetic enough to describe the gratitude I have for you, but I want to say it anyway. Thank you for everything you have done for me—for Hyrule. Thank you for waiting, for fighting, for believing in me until we could relieve the burden that was bestowed upon us. Your sacrifice and faith saved us all and thank you will never be enough. I’ve been watching as you bloom in your freedom, stronger than ever and even more beautiful with each day. Hylia may live in you, but you are truly your own goddess. I am honored to have been partnered in destiny with you._

_I wish that I could say that I carry the same strength you possess, but I do not. I’m sorry that I could not be the hero that Hylia tasked me to be—the hero you needed. I’ve been so lost, struggling to find my way since my awakening. The Hero’s soul is tired. I am tired...but I’ve found a way home._

The rest of the letter was lost to her as it fell from her grasp, her insides churning with dread. She grabbed the Sheikah Slate off the desk as she barreled down the stairs and through the front door. 

“Link?” She called again, shivering as the night’s chill nipped at her bare legs and arms. Epona whinnied nervously in her stall and Zelda ran to her quickly, her eyes scanning the surrounding area for a sign of her friend. She ran her fingertips across the mare’s nose and was about to aimlessly ask the horse where he would have gone when she felt an intense pull at her heart. It nearly brought her to her knees as she clamped a hand over her chest, struggling to take a breath through the sudden tightness, and that’s when she saw it. 

At the top of the Hateno tower, far in the distance, was a flash of light so bright that it illuminated the entire horizon in an unmistakeable hue of sacred blue. It shone like a beacon and she heard the faint whispers of the sword in the back of her mind. Without another second wasted, she selected the tower on the slate’s map. 

She rematerialized onto the stone platform, blinded by the source of the light. The temperature was below freezing at this altitude, but even as the frigid wind swept across her shoulders and seeped through her nightgown, she felt nothing but the heat of adrenaline and fear. The light slowly began to fade and as her eyes adjusted, she saw him. His body was slumped against the terminal behind him, palms to the sky and dark streaks of red flowing from open skin. 

_”Oh.”_

She hesitated for the slightest moment as his glazed eyes fell closed and her heart leapt into her throat. An instinct that didn’t belong to her took over her senses and she dropped to her knees beside him, her hands moving of their own accord as she grasped his open wounds. His skin was clammy beneath her touch and her fingers slipped clumsily from the blood that now painted her own hands. She couldn’t get a good enough grip to hold pressure against him and muttered a swear as she fumbled frantically with his wrists. She needed to stop the bleeding. How was she going to stop the bleeding?

“Link. Wake up, Link.” She tore off two long strips of the bottom of her nightgown as she called to him, wrapping them tightly around his wrists like tourniquets. “Open your eyes.”

The familiarity of her words was nauseating, but she had no time to dwell on the past. She refused to let him die in her arms _again._

“ _Please.”_ Her voice was hoarse as she begged him to awaken, but she was too panicked for tears to fall. She felt like someone else was controlling her body as she watched, trembling with fear behind verdant irises. _What had he done?_ He gave no signs of consciousness and was already bleeding through her makeshift bandages and she wracked her brain for what to do next. The sword pulsed lightly in his lap, offering her silent guidance and she acted with haste, holding onto him tightly as she selected another warp point on the slate. 

They appeared on the travel gate in front of the Hateno lab seconds later, Link falling deadweight against the grass as she held his wrists in a vice-like grip. She stretched her leg out as far as she could without letting him go and kicked hard against the old wood of the door several times.

”Symin!” A soft groan snapped her attention back beneath her in time to see Link’s paling lips part with a struggled breath. She held both of his wrists tightly to her chest and moved one hand to tap his cheek. His eyes barely cracked open, blurred and colorless, before they rolled and fell closed again. She kicked against the door once more. “Link! Stay with me Link. You’re okay, it’s gonna be fine— _PURAH!—_ don’t worry, I’ve got you. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s— _Somebody help me_ _!!”_

Her final shriek was accompanied by the door being flung open and she was met with a confused Symin, scrambling to shove his glasses onto his face without poking out his own eyes. They widened as they finally focused and absorbed the scene before him, Purah running up to his side with a gasp. 

“Please!” Zelda screamed, startling Symin into action. He ran forward and gently pried her hands away from Link’s before scooping him up and rushing him into the lab. Purah had already run back inside as well, yelling to no one and everyone about tonics and a suture kit. 

Zelda was left suddenly alone, kneeling in the brutally cold winter air of Hateno, nightgown torn, hands slicked with the blood of her dearest friend and no sounds other than her own whimpering exhales. She felt her throat constrict as if threatening a sob, yet still no tears came. Her entire world had gone from calm to chaos in the blink of an eye and Hyrule was none the wiser, sleeping peacefully in their beds while their Hero bled out of his own accord.

What had he done? What _didn’t_ she do?

The sword pulsed once more inside its scabbard and she wrapped her crimson coated fingers around it. Her legs trembled underneath her as she made to stand, sword and slate clutched to her chest. She took a moment to breathe, forcing her lungs full as she steeled herself before entering the lab and closing the door behind her.


	9. Aggrieved

Zelda sighed heavily, sliding her fingers up her cheeks to rub the sleep from her eyes and tightening her grip around Link’s limp hand. He lay in Symin’s bed, wounds wrapped tightly in bandages and eyes closed. Time had passed strangely, flying past her as the sun seemingly rose and set twice within the same hour while each second stretched into minutes. She hadn’t slept, her eyes glued to his chest for the first—what she assumed to be— couple of hours. She watched as it rose and fell ever so slightly, barely indicating that he was still with her for now. At some point, her gaze had risen to his face. The room was dimly lit, but she could still see the grey tinge of his skin and the dryness of his lips. A thin sheen of cold sweat slicked his forehead and clung to his bangs. He looked almost ghostly and frail, two adjectives that she hadn’t related to her hero for over one hundred years. 

For the last hour, she had stared at his wrists. The gauze was wrapped in several rounds over his sutures. It had been changed four times already, dark crimson blotches littering the wastebasket beside the bed. He had barely survived. Even as Symin was able to suture him closed and Purah able to run a transfusion of Zelda’s blood to him, he was quickly overtaken by infection. They had thrown nearly every antibiotic and medicinal grade herb they had in their arsenal at him and his fever had only just broken within the last hour.

_Why?_

“Princess.” Symin’s careful voice met her ears and when she turned to look at him, a cup of tea was extended towards her. “You need to rest.”

She shook her head, tightening her fingers around Link’s. “I can’t leave him.”

”Your highness, please, I will watch over him. I won’t leave his side.” Symin’s hand came to rest on her shoulder. She looked back to Link, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. She knew that she was a mess. She knew that she needed to bathe and change her clothes. “I swear to you, I will take care of him.”

-

Her hands shook as she pulled open the door to their empty cottage. A draft blew across her bare shins while she stepped inside, the darkness of it nearly sucking her inside. Everything felt wrong. She shouldn’t be here alone. It shouldn’t be this cold. She shouldn’t feel the fear of losing the most important person in her world while she went to take a bath. 

But she did.

She grimaced at the reflection that met her in the bathroom’s looking glass. Streaks of red painted her hands, her chest, her cheeks and matted her hair. Dark purple circles cradled her under eyes, shadowing her frightfully pale cheeks with great contrast. Her usual verdant irises paled and pupils grayed. She rid herself of her torn nightgown, watching gooseflesh prickle her skin once exposed to the cold air. With little more than a shaky inhale, she picked up the small cloth from the shelf and dipped it in the water, scrubbing the dried crimson off of her body. When it came time for her hair, she attempted to work the bloodied mats free with a comb. After nearly ten minutes, no progress had been made and with little ceremony, she reached to the shelf and grabbed a pair of scissors, chopping her blonde locks roughly at her shoulders. The discolored, tangled hair fell to the floor behind her in chunks and while she didn’t feel much of anything at the moment, she was glad to not deal with it any longer. She picked up the heaps of hair and shoved them into the wastebasket and continued to bathe herself. 

After her cleansing, she wrapped a towel around her midsection and looked up towards the loft, a small pit of dread churning her stomach. Her knees shook beneath her with each step up the stairs and when her eyes caught sight of the bedroom—the blankets thrown halfway off the bed, the stack of books knocked from the desk and his beautiful, terrible handwriting scrawled over the parchment on the floor next to her feet—her throat seized painfully. She felt like a Sheikah bomb, fragile and delicate and ready to detonate at a moment’s notice. She bent down to pick it up and, despite her insides pleading for her not to, she began to read it once more. 

_I wish that I could say that I carry the same strength you possess, but I do not. I’m sorry that I could not be the hero that Hylia tasked me to be—the hero you needed. I’ve been so lost, struggling to find my way since my awakening. The Hero’s soul is tired. I am tired...but I’ve found a way home._

_I’ve found a way to relieve myself from the pain, to relieve you from the burden I impose upon you each day. It might be difficult, but I know it is for the better if I am gone._

_Please do not look for me. Please do not mourn for me. I know that we will meet again some day and I can only pray that my future incarnation has more strength and courage than I. I pray he is the Hero that you can depend on._

_I’m sorry._

Her first reaction was anger. Before she could stop herself, an agonizing scream had ripped from her throat. How could he do this to her _again?_ How could anything be better off if he wasn’t in this world? How she possibly be okay knowing that he chose to end his own life thinking he was a burden to her and anything but her hero? How could he send her through the trauma of trying to keep his arteries clamped shut so he wouldn’t spray the last ounces of his blood on her? How was she supposed deal with him fully seizing in her arms as his body plunged through bouts of shock and sepsis? How could he make her pray harder to that _fucking goddess_ to save his life a second time than she had prayed for her entire kingdom a century ago? After everything they had done, how could he?!

Her secondary reaction was grief. Her scream morphed into a low, somber wail as her legs gave out beneath her. The letter fell from her grasp, being replaced by fistfuls of her comforter. She buried her face into the thick fabric, muffling the rivers of tears and broken sobs that finally tore free from her chest. If she hadn’t woken up, if she hadn’t gone outside, if she’d been just seconds later...he’d be lost to her forever. The man she’d come to love so dearly would have succeeded in taking his own life and left her completely alone. Her heart burned at the thought that he would rather die than live with her another day.

But then, she realized that she couldn’t blame him. If she had awoken after a century in stasis with no ties to her former life and stripped of everything she ever knew, she wouldn’t have even had the strength that he did. She had taken everything from him—ruined him. How could she expect him to still give his life to her after all this time? After all she had done to him, how could she?

She cried until her eyes ran dry and sobbed until she had no voice. Her throat was raw and her head ached horribly until the goddess who she so frequently cursed blessed her with empty, healing sleep to match her hero.


	10. Absolution

When she woke, it was morning. Her newly chopped hair had dried messily, tangles matting where her head had met her mattress. A bath towel was wrapped loosely around her waist and her swollen eyes ached from the night prior. She winced as she sat up, clutching the towel to keep herself covered and looked around the room. Her eyes roamed over the mess she had made while trying to find Link, then cast over to his letter which had once again fallen to the ground and then to Link’s cot. Her eyes twinged as she saw how precisely it was made and how, sitting at the foot of the bed, was his Champions tunic. It was folded as perfectly and with as much care as his bed was made. She reached forward to grab it and brought it to her chest, breathing in the scent of musk and campfire and _him_ and she dissolved in a fresh flood of tears all over again. 

An hour later, she had reclaimed some composure. Her hair had been detangled and the ends evened out, she’d dressed in comfortable trousers and his Champion’s tunic and she’d even picked up the books from the floor and remade her bed. After materializing in strings of blue light, she’d stood still in front of the Hateno lab door, unable to make herself go inside. She was afraid—afraid of what she might find, if something had happened while she was gone, if something would happen when she went inside...afraid that he hadn’t survived and left her all alone. 

Just as she had finally mustered up the courage and laid her hand on the door handle, it cracked open and she was met by Symin. His eyes saddened at the sight of her—she must have looked awful—and he ushered her inside. 

“Hello, my dear.” Purah stood on her chair, a pitiful smile just barely managing to curve her mouth. She grabbed Zelda’s hand with both of hers and gave her palm a light tap just as Symin came to rest his own hand on her shoulder. He gave her a melancholy smile as well and her stomach twisted. 

“H-how-...” Her voice creaked, hoarse from her anger last night. She cleared her throat and tried once more. “How is he?” 

“Why don’t you go see for yourself?” Purah tapped her hand again before shooing her off towards the bedroom. Symin walked along with her and he must have seen her anxiety as his hand stilled on the door knob, waiting for her signal. She swallowed hard before giving him a weak nod, wringing her fingertips against her abdomen. The door swung open and instead of seeing ‘ghostly’ and ‘frail’, she was met with deep blue oceans, dusty pink lips and flesh colored cheeks. Fresh bandages wrapped his wounds and it seemed as though he’d been bathed and hair brushed and she withered. He looked alive.

She gasped, her feet rooted to the ground as Symin shut the door behind her and left the two of them alone. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, a dense feeling swimming in the thickening air between them. His lips parted and closed as his chest rose and fell several times before his own hoarse, weak voice breached her ears. 

“You cut your hair.” 

_You cut your wrists._

Thank the Goddess for holding her tongue and choking her words. She chastised herself—what a wretched thing to think. She quickly quelled her residual anger and instead just nodded, eyes wide and breath bated. He was silent for a moment, undoubtedly trying to find a way to release the tension that threatened to strangle them both.

“You look...” He paused, those rich sapphire eyes grazing over her features and, although they were filled with storms of unspeakable emotions, one stood out to be...admiration? Even still, his words were cautious and measured. “...very beautiful.” 

If someone, especially him, had flattered her like this a week ago, her cheeks would have flared with rosy hues and her heart would have fluttered right out of her chest.

But now, after months of concealing his depression, after slitting his wrists and nearly bleeding out, after almost dying from infection and waking only for his first words to be that she’s pretty...

Her heart didn’t flutter; it ached. Her cheeks didn’t blush; they paled. Her eyes didn’t smile; they filled with tears.

As soon as he saw them, his lips tightened and his own eyes sparkled with sadness.

He turned his arm ever so slightly, opening his palm and reaching his fingers towards her. She itched to take his hand and fall into his arms, but was halted by the wraps around his wrists. He frowned at her hesitation, his voice a mere whisper. “Please.”

She stepped to his side, her breath caught in her throat as her hand hovered above his own. He held her eyes, the deep waters pleading with her. She gingerly lowered her fingers to his own and they both released a shaky sigh as warm skin met warm skin, immediately tightening the grip. He pulled her gently and she followed, settling on the bed next to him. A pregnant pause filled the air before she relinquished her hesitation and pressed her forehead to his, eyes falling closed and a tear sliding free.

”I thought I lost you.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it rang like a bell between his ears. Suddenly, she found herself rambling. “I thought you were gone and I was going to be all alone without you. Please don’t leave me, Link. You’re all that I need, you’re all that I want, you’re all that I have and if you leave me—if you die I might as well be dead too because I have nothing without you and I don’t want be here if you’re not here and I know that’s selfish but I-” 

She was cut off by a sharp, sniffling inhale and quickly opened her eyes to see his glistening with his own tears. This was only the second time she had seen him cry, but this time, he didn’t try to hide from her. This time, he let her see and his grip around her tightened. 

“I-...I’m s-sorry.” He hiccuped around the words he barely said and she shook her head furiously. She buried her face against his cheek and wrapped her arms around him tightly. He returned it as best he could in his weakened state and then for the first time in his life, let his tears freely fall, mixing with her own as they held onto each other like it was it was their last time.

**Author's Note:**

> It hurts.


End file.
